Growing Pains
by Galfridus
Summary: Meliodas has fled the demon realm, betraying his clan for the sake of a woman. Estarossa is falling apart, and his physical resemblance to the brother he's lost isn't helping. It's time to grow up. Likely AU. Spoilers through to chapter 177.


_Hi. I have to admit I'd not paid Estarossa proper attention until I recently re-read the Ten Commandments verses Meliodas arc and realised just how much he used to look like Meliodas and the transformation he must have been through. I don't think this change is just natural ageing so here's an alternative theory. It's almost certainly wrong. I'm not great at guessing Nakaba Suzuki's plot twists. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. Comments welcome._

Estarossa lay on his back, gazing unseeingly at the stars, willing himself not to feel. He still couldn't believe this was happening. Why was this happening? What had he done wrong?

Suddenly, the wind picked up and Estarossa realised how cold he was, freezing in fact. How long had he been here? He sat up slowly, feeling an ache in his chest and an all too familiar lump in his throat, but this time his eyes remained dry. Perhaps he was all out of tears he thought as he rubbed his stiff neck. That's why he had come yet again to Britannia he told himself, to stop the others seeing him cry, not to be closer to him.

It had been several weeks since Meliodas had left the demon realm, slaughtering Aranak and Zeno on his way out. That was what had upset Estarossa. Although he had tried to convince himself otherwise, deep down he knew this proved his brother never meant to return. The tears came then. When it first happened, he had thought that if only he could find him, if only he could show him how much he loved him, Meliodas might come back home. It would be painful but his father would surely welcome his eldest son, especially if he brought that woman's head on a spike. But then he'd seen his brother with the detestable goddess, her lips on his, sighing softly, whispering love, and had known in his hearts it wasn't to be. How could she be worth more than him? Maybe if he had been better, stronger, less clingy, then perhaps Meliodas would have wanted to stay.

Grinding his knuckles into his eyes, relishing the pain, Estarossa stood up his sore limbs groaning in protest as he stretched his small body to push the feeling away. Better get back. He tensed his shoulders as the black wings he had summoned grew larger before launching himself into the sky and speeding back to his home.

He spun through the air, cold wind whipping the tears from his face as he approached the castle to land expertly on the balcony outside his room. He was careful to make no sound, hoping no-one would spot him, wanting desperately to be left alone. He started inside and then suddenly stopped short, feeling his hearts jolt fiercely in his chest, his breath catching as his blood pumped more rapidly. Could it be? He was there! The mad, messy hair, the coal black eyes, the snub nose, all of him, standing as if in welcome. But something looked different. Gone was the cold, arrogant sneer which befitted the second most powerful demon in existence. This Meliodas looked surprised and delighted.

Then, with a shock, Estarossa understood. This was not an image of the beloved brother he so longed to embrace but his own reflection, the face looking back from the glass of his window quickly losing its glow as he realised his mistake. He saw clearly then how haggard he looked. When had he last slept?

He needed a drink.

Estarossa shrugged inside, the warmth of the room overwhelming as he closed the window behind him, and he felt life returning to his frozen fingers. A fire blazed in the hearth, casting a soft glow over the walls as he picked out the shadow of the huge suit of armour which decorated his room, and the silhouette of the welcome bottle of whiskey he had left next to his bed. He grabbed it, holding it up to his lips, sharp heat washing straight down his throat. He took another mouthful, this one more soothing but leaving the bottle empty. Snarling with disappointment, he strode towards the drinks cabinet on the opposite side of the room to find another.

As he passed, he caught sight of himself in the full length mirror propped up against the wall. He shivered in disgust: he looked exactly like him, apart from the hair. His silver locks hung round his face, two strands curving up on top with a life of their own, a pale imitation of his brother's shining gold mop. His small, lithe frame was shrouded in a high-collared, black jacket, the symbol of his clan picked out in silver thread over the collar and arms. The sharp tailoring helped to show off his slim waist before flaring behind, despite the fact that the whole thing was really too big for him. He hadn't dared go bare-chested under it as his brothers both did, so wore a white shirt, the collar of which covered his neck.

This wouldn't do. He couldn't go for the rest of his life looking so much like that traitor.

Suddenly, for the first time, Estarossa felt furious, beyond livid. He shook with rage, a crimson sea rising to cover his vision. How dare he do this! How dare he leave! With a harsh, rendering cry, Estarossa flung out his arm and punched the mirror in front of him to smithereens. He pulled out a shard of glass from the side of his hand, staring at the blood falling down his wrist before moving his darkness over to cover the wound. When it slid away moments later, the skin was once more unmarked and he barked out a laugh; if only it were that easy.

Closing his eyes, Estarossa remembered a rare affectionate smile lighting up his elder brother's face. His younger self had squealed in delight at the sight of the egg Meliodas had given him, an apology for disappearing for days on a hunt. Estarossa smiled as he recalled how he had carefully tended the egg, keeping it warm in the hearth until it hatched. A long, bright green dragon had emerged, tiny wings shaking off the remains of the shell. And then the horror he had felt when he touched it and the poor thing had mushroomed into a black, bloated mess, gangling limbs flailing wildly before it exploded. That was how Estarossa had discovered he could turn living things into demons, and although sad at the loss of his pet this all fell away when his brother, far from cross, spoke rare words of praise, instructing Estarossa to build his powers with training. And train he had, anything to please Meliodas, although the mangled bodies of his early attempts made his stomach turn. He was now pretty good though and could choose the shape and size of his creations at will. But despite his faith in his skill he could not help shudder slightly. He had never tried this power on himself before.

Carefully, Estarossa pictured his own face, his boyish features stretching into a lopsided smile shining with an adoration and love which was seldom returned. He recalled how he had spent months, years trying to master Full Counter, one which could return physical blows to complement his brother's power to answer magic attacks. He had expected... what? Praise? Even affection? A promise to use their powers together to take on their enemies? None of this had come. All he had received for his efforts was a pitying stare.

"Time to grow up", he spat as the face in his mind filled out, ageing, the cheekbones becoming more chiselled. Estarossa imagined his chin growing slightly, becoming more pointed and he covered it in a light, sliver goatee. He grinned, the beard suited him, but his nose was now far too small. He pictured it growing, the cute snub replaced with a sharp curving point before thinking better of it - that looked weird, not intimidating. He pulled his nose back into a smaller triangle and narrowed the wide eyes, leaving the swirling mark in place on the left side of his forehead. Then he stopped, satisfied with his efforts. Holding the image clear and sharp, he reached his hands up to his face and stretched out his power.

His jaw clamped down hard. He hadn't realised how badly this hurt, though on reflection he should probably have figured it out. The creatures he changed always made such a racket and that human he'd found accidentally wandering close to the demon realm had died with the shock. He winced, willing himself not to make any noise as he felt his face pulling, tearing, breaking, before finally, after what felt like years, the pain dulled and Estarossa opened his eyes. Reaching into the drinks cabinet he'd been originally aiming for he pulled out a bottle and drank deeply. The alcohol took the edge off the discomfort he still felt but rather than completing the cure he set the bottle down gently. He didn't want to mess up this next bit.

Recalling the sight of his small frame in the mirror he elongated it in his mind, adding more than a foot and a half to his height. His muscles expanded dramatically to fit his new physique. His shoulders and neck were broad, his chest was huge, his arms rippled with strength and his once slender legs bulked up, taught with power. He looked like a God. This would do! Estarossa braced himself for the pain as he rested his hands on his hips, letting his power flow into his flesh.

This was agony. He felt like he was on fire, as if he was being crushed with a stone, and stretched on the rack. He convulsed uncontrollably, writhing on the floor, failing to stifle his screams as lightning shot through his frame. His clothes ripped from his body, his white shirt and black trousers falling off him in tatters as he grew and expanded. Then finally it was over. Estarossa lay panting on the floor of his room, his eyes squeezed shut as the waves of pain gradually faded.

He stood up shakily, reaching for the bottle and slamming all of the contents down his eager throat. A breeze down below alerted him to his state of undress and he checked his attire. He needed something to cover his modesty but miraculously his jacket had survived. It had definitely been too big before. Striding to the wardrobe, covering the distance much more quickly than he was used to, he rifled through the contents until he found a pair of black leggings, stretching them over his muscles and up to his waist. His eyes fell on the suit of armour and he carefully dismantled it. He recalled trying this on as a child, disappointed that it would never fit. He smirked. It did now. Grinning, he pulled the arms and legs of it over his own: he was ready for battle.

A knock came at the door and a familiar voice sounded, more strained than usual. "Estarossa, I heard screams, I'm coming in", Zeldris said as the door opened and his younger brother looked up at him. It was in that moment Estarossa truly relished his new height. When the time came he would tower over his elder.

Zeldris looked carefully up and down the tall figure, his eyes momentarily flashing but otherwise showing no clue as to his reaction. Did he even recognise him? Estarossa chuckled, trying to see what Zeldris was thinking, then glowering once more when he recalled how the traitor also hid his feelings like this. Why could neither of them just open up? Well, two could play this game. Pushing his anger down, Estarossa forced an expression of languid boredom to take over his face. This is who he was now, no eager puppy who needed the approval of others but a lone wolf interested in nothing except his own survival.

"Glad you're okay", Zeldris said, smiling slightly before turning, his hand on the door. "I'll leave you alone, but I'm here if you need me". Estarossa's mask of indifference nearly broke, but he remembered himself, suppressing the urge to call Zeldris back as his remaining brother quietly slipped from the room. He needed no-one.

Turning around, Estarossa stepped back to the window and watched as the sun rose slowly, red rays bathing the earth. He caught sight of himself in the sheen of the glass and smiled approvingly. He looked so cruel, so evil, so ready for what had to be done. He reached out his hand pulling seven blades from the air, stretching his darkness out to sharpen the edges. Some day, sooner or later, Meliodas would die at his hand. Estarossa paused, unsure what to do when he found that alongside his elation the thought brought tears back into his eyes.


End file.
